


Wavering Resistance

by SunSpinner



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Case working, Crime, Crime Scenes, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, M/M, On the Run, Post-Bad Ending, RK900 will deviate eventually, Slow Burn, Violence, gavin being gavin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2019-06-05 15:10:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15173387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunSpinner/pseuds/SunSpinner
Summary: The android revolution was unsuccessful, and the deviant detective, Connor, remains at large in the chaotic city of Detroit. RK900 is put into commision by CyberLife to track down his predecessor and eliminate him at any cost.And who better to assist him than one Detective Gavin Reed.





	1. Prequel

The trail of Thirium leads RK900 behind a thick line of rusted pipes. He takes a calculated step around the corner, pistol trained steadily in front of him. He lowers the weapon to his side, moving alongside the Thirium, the small splatters of blue blood he had been following turning into larger puddles as he advances. 

RK900 stops as the trail leads to one massive puddle before dissipating, the electric blue Thirium smeared around on the dusty floor. He squints, reconstructing what had happened just moments ago. He sees the blue silhouette of the deviant limp around the corner, slowing down as it realizes it is out of sight. The gunshot wound on its leg bleeds steadily onto the ground, and the deviant collapses, clumsily clutching at the injury. 

The reconstruction ends and RK900 glances around, looking for a clue as to where the deviant went, or why the bloody trail suddenly disappeared. A few feet away lies a lighter, and a quick scan of the fingerprints tells him it belongs to Lieutenant Hank Anderson. 

Belonged. 

The lighter is relatively warm. RK900 remembers the small pocket knife the deviant had attacked him with before it fled into the power station. He determines the wound was cauterized by applying heat to the blade. 

RK900 stands, spinning the lighter between his deft fingers. He finds it unusual, if not impossible, that the famed deviant intentionally left the lighter in plain sight, several feet from where it had been used. 

The plastic case of the lighter is cracked at the bottom. RK900 pockets it as he lifts his gaze, zeroing in on the electric blue handprints working their way up the old pipes. 

The deviant had climbed them mere minutes ago, accidentally dropping the lighter as it neared the top. 

RK900 moves forward, intending to cut off the deviant before it can exit the building. He notes that the deviant is becoming sloppy, behaving like a scared animal backed into a corner. He had been pursuing it through the forsaken power station for nearly three hours now. Eliminating its partner left it frantic, and RK900 managed to land a shot on it before it fled again.

He finds the deviant limping pathetically on a catwalk not far from the pipes it had climbed, the wound no longer bleeding but still an obvious deterrent. It turns toward the sound of RK900 approaching, but the deviant is too slow, RK900 shoving it forward so that it falls to the ground. 

It flips onto its back, brown eyes wide with fear. It kicks RK900 back as the android advances on it, trying to shimmy away as quickly as it can. RK900 stumbles slightly but continues his pursuit, drawing its gun from its holster. He fires two shots, the deviant dodging both as the bullet pings off the metal. The third shot, intended for its head, hits the deviant’s shoulder as it attempts to twist out of the way. It inhales sharply, blue blood splattering the rusted catwalk. 

RK900 uses this moment to lift the deviant off the ground by the collar of its shirt. It flails as RK900 throws it effortlessly against the railing. The deviant gasps, blue blood flying as its head smacks against the metal. It scrambles as RK900 kneels over it, pulling a pocket knife from somewhere in its jacket. It slashes at RK900, the android leaning back to dodge the attack, but the blade just nicks his cheekbone. 

RK900 quickly holsters his weapon, grabbing the deviant by the wrist as it makes another swipe at him with the knife. He squeezes its wrist until the artificial bone snaps, and the knife falls from its limp fingers with a clatter. The deviant is thrashing, LED blazing red, trying to throw RK900 off. He snatches up the fallen knife and uses it to cut the deviant’s shirt, exposing its Thirium regulator. 

“No, please -- _don’t!”_ The deviant protests, making a grab for RK900’s hand. 

RK900 rips the Thirium regulator out in a burst of blue blood, spinning the component between his fingers before tossing it over the railing of the catwalk. He waits, the deviant beneath him still struggling despite its imminent shut down. 

It grapples weakly for RK900’s hand, synthetic skin fading away to white. It pleads weakly, “Wake up -- _wake up,_ you h-have to…” 

RK900 twitches, but is otherwise unfazed. 

Two seconds remaining until shut down… 

RK800, dubbed Connor, ceases movement, LED fading to a grey ring. His head falls back against the metal, brown eyes staring without seeing. 

The simulation dissolves in seconds, leaving RK900 kneeling over Connor’s body in a massive white room. He stands, smoothing out the lines in his jacket. Thirium trickles down from the gash in his cheek. 

_“Excellent_ work.” A middle-aged woman donning a CyberLife lab coat approaches him, the clack of her heels echoing loudly in the projection room. Two more employees wearing similar coats follow closely behind her, their fingers swiping quickly across their datapads. 

One of the other scientists, a balding man with glasses, says, “There was a point nine percent increase in resistance from the last simulation.” 

“Just _excellent.”_ The woman repeats. She beams at RK900, “You are becoming quite the prodigy.” 

“Do you believe it’s ready?” The man inquires incredulously, adding quickly when the woman shoots him a glare, “While RK900’s investigative and combat skills are unmatched, the RK800 _prototype_ is undoubtedly stronger than these androids. Its conversion may still have an effect on the RK900 model.” 

The woman hums thoughtfully, turning her attention back to RK900. The android stands with its hands clasped behind its back, staring straight ahead. “Perhaps…” She circles RK900 for a moment, stepping carefully over Connor’s body. She directs her attention to the other woman, “How many RK800 models remain?”

“Only fifty-two, ma’am.” 

“Then we’ll continue to build its resistance fifty-two more times,” She begins making her way back to the observatory room, the other man and woman at her heels. “Wipe him. Run the simulation again. Add variables this time.” 

There’s a whirring sound and RK900’s eyes close, LED flickering yellow before returning to a soft blue. When he opens them again, he’s standing on a busy street in the city, buildings looming high above him. Civilians knock into him as he stands stock still on the sidewalk. An objective appears in the corner of his vision.

MISSION: ELIMINATE THE DEVIANT CONNOR


	2. Partners

The thing is, Gavin Reed doesn’t _have_ partners, let alone _android_ partners. He’s a good enough detective that he doesn’t _need_ one, and a big enough self-proclaimed lonewolf that he doesn’t _want_ one. 

But Fowler had called him into his office a few hours ago to tell him that he was getting a partner. An android partner. The screaming match that had ensued topped Hank’s by a longshot, Fowler moving from behind his desk so quickly that Gavin didn’t have a chance to react before his boss was grabbing him by the collar of his jacket and yanking so hard that Gavin thinks his feet might’ve left the ground for a moment. 

Fowler gave him three options; Gavin could turn in his badge and never come back, Fowler could pass the case to a _“better”_ detective that will make _“actual progress”,_ or he could suck it the fuck up and prove that he’s _“mature”_ enough to handle this case. 

And so Gavin exits Fowler’s office red in the face and positively vibrating with rage. 

And of course, because Gavin’s life has decided to spiral in the last fifteen minutes, the fucking android is waiting for him at his desk. 

Gavin nearly trips over his feet when he sees it. He shoves his hands into his pockets, unable to trust himself not to draw his pistol and fire several bullets into this Connor look-alike’s face (even though he desperately wants to). He’s consciously aware of the other officers in the precinct watching his every moment as he stomps his way toward the android, but he finds that he doesn’t care at the moment.

Gavin stops a foot from him, staring up into his face, and he’s shocked to find how _different_ he looks from Connor up close. He’s taller, not by much, but enough that Gavin actually has to look up at him, his face is wider, body definitely bulkier beneath his absurd jacket, eyebrows lowered, drawing attention to the piercing grey eyes fixated on Gavin. 

Gavin, despite his unadulterated anger, can’t help but feel slightly unnerved. The android stands stock-still in front of Gavin, hands locked behind his back and chin tilted up just enough that he is looking down at the detective. RK900 flashes brightly on the android’s black and white jacket. Not one of the Connor models.

Gavin looks him up and down. A chill passes through his body. 

He thought he had seen the extent of CyberLife’s God-complex with Connor, but they had truly poured everything they had into this one. This new android was eerily lifelike, but it lacked the friendly eagerness that radiated off of Connor in waves. This one is detached, expressionless, monumental where he stands in the middle of the precinct. 

“What the fuck is this.” Gavin says intelligently. 

“Detective Reed,” not-Connor says in a deep, smooth voice. He appears unaffected by Gavin’s poor choice of greeting. “I’m the android sent by CyberLife. I’ve been assigned case number four-seven-three-nine. We will be working alongside each other until it is solved.” 

Gavin bites his tongue, a typhoon of curses threatening to spill out of his mouth. His eyes shift from the android’s expressionless face to the officers around him. Several phones ring, but no one makes a move to pick them up, too focused on Gavin and the android. Clearly waiting for a show, Gavin thinks. 

As much as he doesn’t want to disappoint, Gavin can feel Fowler’s eyes burning into the back of his head, likely watching him from his glass office. Anxiety creeps into his chest. He exhales through his mouth, damaged ego withering even more. He says stiffly, “You got a name?” 

“RK900.” 

Gavin narrows his eyes. “That’s not a name.”

“It is my model.” 

“Even Connor had a damn name.” 

RK900’s head cocks slightly to the side, and he gives Gavin an almost _pitying_ look, “I am not Connor, Detective Reed.” 

Gavin’s jaw clenches and his fingers twitch inside his jacket pockets. God, he wants nothing more than to fucking deck this thing so hard that it needs a system reboot. 

The android speaks again, “Shall we get started then?” 

Gavin swallows hard, sparing a shaky glance toward Fowler’s office and -- yup, he’s watching his every move, clearly not trusting Gavin enough to behave himself with his new partner. The anxious bubble inside of him swells.

The detective steps toward RK900 (he ignores the loud, collective gasp) and moves around him. He opens a drawer in his desk, snatching a keycard and grumbling something about needing “a goddamn car”. Gavin’s almost certain there’s steam billowing out of his ears as he storms toward the exit, everyone parting to let him pass like he’s fucking Moses. RK900 walks closely behind him. 

Gavin hears the voices and bustle of people start up again the moment they’re out of eyesight, the noise almost startling after the unsettling silence. He’s never been one to care what people say about him, but something about the thought is making his skin crawl. 

Gavin’s heart thrums loudly in his ears. He feels sick suddenly, the sweat on his forehead making him shiver as he moves through the departments. RK900 sidles up beside him, hovering just in his peripheral. 

The unbridled rage Gavin had felt just minutes ago hits him like a freight train. He all but growls, a new vigor working its way into his step as he takes a sharp turn in the wrong direction.

RK900 knows that Gavin is not leading him to the parking garage, having downloaded the layout of the building before entering. They passed the stairwell they were supposed to take nearly one hundred feet ago, Gavin moving at a brisk pace in front of him. The detective stops in an empty corridor, spinning on his heel. RK900 halts and Gavin rushes into his space, jabbing a finger into his solid chest.

“Listen here, you plastic fuck, because I’m only going to say this once — you’re going to stay out of my way and do whatever I say, when I say it. I couldn’t give two fucks about CyberLife or why they put you on this case —” 

“I believe,” RK900 interjects calmly, “CyberLife has assigned me to this case because you have made little to no progress in locating the RK800 model.” 

RK900 grabs Gavin’s wrist before his fist can connect with his face. Gavin makes a confused noise, trying to shake free from the android’s grasp. RK900 twists the detective’s arm, spinning him around and pushing him face-first into the wall. Gavin swears loudly, trying but failing to free himself. RK900 says nonchalantly, “You seem to have me confused with someone else, detective. My predecessor was designed to take orders. I am not.” He pauses as Gavin struggles in his grip. “We share a common goal, Detective Reed, so might I suggest shutting the fuck up and doing your job?” 

Gavin growls, “Fuck off.” He thrashes again, trying to wiggle away, but RK900 holds him steady. He pushes him further so his chest is flat against the wall, giving him less space to struggle. 

The detective huffs, lifting his head up just to let it thump against the wall once -- twice -- three times. He stops fighting. The android releases his hold.

Gavin whips around immediately, ready to block whatever attack comes his way, but RK900 is barely paying attention to him. The android is smoothing out the lines in his jacket before reaching up to adjust the absurdly high collar around his neck. Once satisfied, he fixes Gavin with his steely gaze, “Shall we go, detective?” 

It sounds much more like a command rather than a question, and Gavin thinks of Fowler, his career, his stupid undying need to prove himself, and finds that he has no choice but to listen. Slowly, reluctantly, Gavin nods, “Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaah sorry this took so long!!   
> love me some no-nonsense rk900 .. i can't wait until gavin starts to soften him up a bit lmao   
> also gavin is my insecure trash son and i love him very much   
> please enjoy and let me know what you think <33

**Author's Note:**

> i am so sorry connor. this hurt to write jfc.. i'm planning on this having a happy ending, but, y'know, the middle is gonna be Not So Happy ((minus lil moments here and there))  
> rk900 will meet gavin in the next chapter and hopefully give him a fuckin name !!  
> also rk900 makes me sad.. it's not your fault bby  
> thiS ANDROID BOI WILL DEVIATE SO HELP ME GOD  
> hope y'all enjoy, lmk what you think!!<3


End file.
